Jason Morrow - Anywhere but Here

“Shoot it!” he yelled, “shoot it!”

I jumped forward, standing next to Charles as I brought the handgun in front of the greyskin and shot it through the forehead. Charles instantly fell back onto Lucas as the creature’s arms and fingers went limp. Blood covered Charles’ chest, stomach and arms.

“We have to get to the truck,” he said as he pulled himself up.

“Charles, you’re bleeding everywhere!” Hattie said.

“It’s nothing too deep,” he said reaching down for his rifle. “And it didn’t bite me, so I can’t be infected.”

A crash at another window jolted us to attention. Hattie lifted her gun and shot the greyskin through the brain, but it was only replaced by more. They were starting to surround the house.

It felt like earlier when I was at my own house: a reserved panic. Hattie had thought that her house had been isolated enough to escape this virus, this sickness that plagued mankind. But this only confirmed that there never had been an escape and to think so was foolish.

The four of us rushed to the front of the house. Hattie looked through the kitchen window at the driveway only to report that there were at least five between us and the truck. A glance down the short hallway showed us that there was no other way out as the greyskins tore into the living room through the windows. Their moaning and hissing reached my ears and their stench violated my nostrils. Lucas held his gun ready and swung the front door open. He stopped for just a moment to take aim at a greyskin that noticed him and shot it in the head. I shot two down, and Hattie shot the other two as Charles fumbled for his keys and got into the front of the truck. Hattie yelled for Lucas and me to hop into the back as she got into the passenger side. The greyskins from the other side of the house were coming after us, but Charles was already tearing out of the driveway.

Without food, without shelter, and with limited ammunition, we hurried away from another home.

It was afternoon of the next day when we realized that Charles needed more than stitches. He needed a cure for the greyskin virus.

“But I don’t know how it happened,” he said through labored breaths as he sat in the bed of the truck. Sweat poured from his brow and cheeks. His eyes that had been watering were now discharging thick mucous and turning a darker shade. He was turning into one of them.

“Don’t try to talk sweetie,” Hattie said as she squeezed his hand.

“Don’t try to stop me,” he said through clenched teeth.

I looked at Lucas who sat on the edge of the bed, looking down and showing little emotion. He stared with wide eyes and an open mouth as if what he saw before him wasn’t real. I wished that it wasn’t. I wished that all of this was just some horrible nightmare.

“Could the scratches have done it?” Charles asked. He held up his arms and revealed several long, deep cuts running from his elbows to his wrists. “I thought they had to bite you.”

Hattie shook her head as she stroked Charles’ hair.

“You three have to get out of here,” Charles said, dropping his hands. He pushed himself upward so he could sit up straighter. “Somebody give me a gun.”

“What?”

“I’m not about to turn into one of those things, Hattie,” he said. “You’ve seen the news. There’s no cure. If I wait it out I’ll be one of those things by tonight. Give me a gun.”

Hattie’s hands were shaking and Lucas was still staring, but Charles knew what needed to be done, and so did I. I walked to the side of the truck and gave him my handgun. He looked at me through his filmy eyes and nodded, taking the gun from me. He started to scoot out of the bed of the truck, but Hattie tried to keep him back. She wanted him to lie down, to rest. I had never seen Hattie in such despair. She had always seemed so strong. Now she looked broken. Charles shoved her away as he got to his feet out of the truck. He looked at me first.

“You need to drive,” he said. “I don’t know if these two will be in any shape to do it.”

The instruction took me by surprise. I had never legally driven before. I was still two years from getting a license, but I nodded anyway. It was probably safer for me to drive than it was for a crying Hattie, or shocked Lucas.

“Hattie, Lucas, come with me,” he said.

I stepped away from the truck out of respect. The oddest feeling came over me in that moment. For a brief second, I felt jealous of Hattie and Lucas. What they were going through was horrendous, of course, but at least they got to say goodbye to the person they loved. The only goodbye I got from my loved ones was a scream from the other end of the phone and blood seeping through the basement door. But how much worse would it be to see them still alive and having to say goodbye? Perhaps it was easier for me. Maybe if I were in their shoes, I would be jealous of the person that didn’t have to say goodbye to anyone.

I never want to say goodbye to anyone ever again , I thought. I just want this all to be over soon.

It’s early in the afternoon when I get to the Crestwood entrance, a mostly empty bag strapped to my shoulders weighed down by a full water bottle, a bit of food for the journey ahead, and the pistol I stole from Paxton. I don’t know what came over me when I packed it, but when Gabe told me we were going out of the city, I had to take my chances. I knew that Gabe would probably give me my own gun back when we went out, but a little extra protection is never a bad thing. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be frisked when we come back. I am a citizen here and my apartment has already been searched.

I stand next to a silver SUV and shake hands with the two soldiers that helped Gabe search my apartment. Beardy, I find out, is actually known as Skip, which I think to be quite a lighthearted name for such a hairy man. His facial hair is dark, long, and thick, kind of like the rest of him. He’s a big man that I won’t mind having around when the greyskins attack. For one, they would surely see him first. But I’m sure he can hold his own against the undead.

Sleeveless is simply called Mendez. He has a shaved head and is, of course, still wearing a sleeveless shirt despite the frigid air that turns our breath into puffs of white smoke. Both of them are loaded with weapons, a rifle slung over their shoulders coupled with long daggers at their sides.

“So you’re the one that’s going out with us?” Skip asks with a big smile. He looks me up and down, but I’m not sure if he’s sizing me up or undressing me with his eyes.

“Got a problem with that?” I ask, giving him my best tough-guy impression. I stand as straight as possible, trying to keep my shoulders wide. My nose tilts upward just a little so I can gain a bit of height but they both have half a foot on me at least. No doubt these guys don’t want a lightweight out there. When greyskins are involved, you want only the most experienced fighters. Lucky for them I’m more experienced than I could ever wish to be.

Skip shakes his head, his beard flapping in the wind. He looks past me as Gabe comes walking up.

“I see you’ve already met the team,” he says as he walks past me and opens the back of the SUV. He’s wearing a dark, cloth jacket that reaches down to his thighs. Slung over his shoulder is a pump shotgun. On one side of his belt is a pistol and on the other side is a knife.

“How long you been here?” Mendez asks me.

“Three months,” I say.

Mendez and Skip look at each other and then at Gabe sharply, but Gabe pays them no mind. He unzips a duffle bag in the back seat and moves it to the rear storage. He sets his shotgun across the back seat and pulls out a rifle, looking straight into my eyes.